


We Went As Far As We Felt Like Going

by citizenjess (givehimonemore), patientalien



Series: The "Bailbiwanakin Three-Way" 'Verse [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Cheese, Double Penetration, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/pseuds/patientalien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bail has only ever seen Anakin as Obi-Wan's bratty, oversized former Padawan, but when their professional lives coincide, the personal soon follows. Eventual Anakin/Bail/Obi-Wan three-way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Went As Far As We Felt Like Going

**Author's Note:**

> Title is the name of a Tim Curry song. Fun fact: The Notepad file where this story originated is called "negotiating a threesome."

"Thank you so much for coming." Padme Amidala's smile was warm as she passed Obi-Wan Kenobi's cloak to the waiting protocol 'droid. "And you, Master Skywalker," she added to Obi-Wan's companion, a coy smile playing over her lips. "Bail just arrived himself. Please, make yourself comfortable."

With the war waging across the galaxy, the opportunity to spend time with friends was, for Obi-Wan, becoming more and more rare. Thus, when Padme invited them for a small dinner party - once a much more frequent occasion - he felt obliged to accept. He had no particular qualms about doing his duty as a Jedi, serving the Republic, but it was nice to have an evening where the topic of conversation wasn't always, "Hey, Master, how many fingers do you think I can fit in this blaster wound?" Just, well, sometimes.

"Thank you, Senator," Anakin said as they followed her into the lounge. He was always unnaturally formal with her for the first few minutes of any of their encounters, as if he thought he was throwing Obi-Wan off the trail of his attraction to her. Obi-Wan, of course, knew better, but he also knew better than to point it out and ruin one of the few semblances of normalcy remaining in their lives.

Bail stood upon their entrance, smiling warmly at Obi-Wan. It had been some time since they'd seen each other last, and Obi-Wan was glad the war didn't seem to have dimmed any of Bail's charm. "Master Kenobi, good to see you again." 

"And you, Bail," Obi-Wan replied, offering a slight, wry bow. 

"I see Knight Skywalker's punctuality has improved slightly since our last dinner," Bail commented teasingly as See Threepio came around with glasses of wine. "Only ten minutes late, this time." 

Anakin took the comment in stride, picking up a glass. "I think Obi-Wan has set my chronos fast to compensate."

Obi-Wan shook his head fondly, thanking Bail with a small nod as the Senator patted the space next to him on an overstuffed sofa. "I only wish I had discovered the secret to my Padawan's successful time management while he was still my Padawan," he smiled. 

Bail and Padme chuckled; Anakin, too, offered a quick grin, which he then punctuated by plunking his now-drained wine glass onto Threepio's serving tray and picking up its brother, topped off with pale liquid. He downed half of it in one long sip, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before squatting next to Padme on an adjacent piece of furniture. "I suppose if my job consisted of nothing but meetings about which piece of paper to discuss at another meeting, I'd be used to watching the time pretty closely, too," he offered tersely. Padme nudged him a bit, a faint, disapproving noise sounding from the back of her throat. 

Bail blinked. "We do keep to a pretty rigid schedule," he said. He sounded cordial enough, but there was a noticeable tensing of his jaw that made Obi-Wan want to sigh. 

Fortunately, Padme was nothing if not a classy hostess. "Ani, will you come with me to check on the first course?" she said, speaking and then standing with artificial buoyancy. Shrugging, Anakin stood as well and followed her, languid defiance traipsing after a frenetic bustle of skirts. 

Once they were both out of earshot, Obi-Wan released an aggravated groan. "I apologize on Anakin's behalf," he said to Bail. "He's a bit surly tonight, I'm afraid."

Bail shrugged. "Color me surprised," he said. 

Disappointment etched Obi-Wan's usually mild features. "I'm sorry?" he frowned.

Bail busied himself with his drink, subtly avoiding eye contact. "Look, it's just ... not the first time Anakin has had a giant chip on his shoulder concerning me," he said finally. He finished the glass and swallowed hard. "I'm sure it won't be the last, either."

"You think he means it to be an affront to you?" 

Bail chuckled. "Come on, Obi-Wan. He knows his way around Padme's apartment like it's his personal fighter, and he likes you well enough, even if he does a terrible job of showing it. What's the common denominator?"

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, he does a terrible job of showing that he likes me?"

Bail made a slightly exasperated face, but seemed unsure of how to proceed. "What I mean is ..." He trailed off. "Look, his exploits are well-documented during pretty much every correspondence we've had since he was about fourteen. He was a brat then, and from my vantage point, not much has changed."

Obi-Wan exhaled. "I see," he intoned. He looked down at his lap. "I did not mean to cloud our friendship with my cataloguing of Anakin's occasional shenanigans," he said stiffly.

"Obi-Wan." The hand on his leg was warm. "That's not what I meant. I -" But he did not have a chance to explain himself further. He saw Anakin in his peripheral vision and stopped. Looking up, their eyes met, but not before Bail noticed Anakin's own gaze fixate briefly on his friendly - perhaps even possessive - hand on Obi-Wan's knee. Vague frustration simmered inside of him; before he could help himself, he made a point of patting Obi-Wan's leg a couple of times before finally extracting his hand. Anakin said nothing, but the fingers on his remaining flesh hand hanging at his side curled into a soft fist, and then spread out again. He should have been above the feeling of smug satisfaction that accompanied the visual proof of Anakin's disgust, but, well, there it was.

*

Padme was well used to soothing egos and keeping conversation flowing, so dinner itself went smoothly. She hadn't been blind, though, to how Anakin had quieted significantly, pushing his food around, topping off his wine glass whenever he thought Obi-Wan wasn't looking and shooting glares at Bail whenever the other man's back was turned. He thought he was being subtle, but Padme knew her husband well enough to know something was bothering him. So, with Obi-Wan and Bail sequestered in the sitting room after the meal, discussing some shared past exploit, she pulled Anakin out onto the veranda.

She had to be careful, so careful, when they were in mixed company, but all parties present knew she and Anakin were friends. A brief private discussion would not arouse too much suspicion, after all. They stood together in silence for a few long moments, looking out over the vast city-scape of Coruscant, towards the Temple that Anakin sometimes called home. Finally, she broke the silence. "Ani, what's wrong?"

He cast her a sideways glance and finished his drink, setting it on the railing. "Nothing," he replied tersely, but the tension across his shoulders and back said otherwise. 

Padme frowned; Anakin only blew off her concern like that when there truly was something to be concerned about. "Don't do this," she implored. She wouldn't beg him to share his thoughts, but she would push if she had to. "This is supposed to be a nice evening with close friends."

"Some closer than others," Anakin replied with a scowl and let out a sharp breath.

Padme raised an eyebrow, her suspicions as to the origins of Anakin's sour mood confirmed. Bail's presence, she supposed, bothered her secret husband for two reasons. The first, of course, was what it meant for his relationship with Obi-Wan. Padme wasn't so naive to think their brotherly affection for one another was absolutely platonic, after all; while she knew Anakin loved her with everything he was, he loved Obi-Wan just as strongly, albeit in a somewhat different way. 

The other reason, she surmised, was that Bail seemed to have it a little too easy. She had occasionally caught Anakin frowning dubiously at the price tags on an extravagant article of clothing custom-made for what was largely, as he'd so turgidly put it earlier that evening, for the purpose of sitting around in a posh office all day. Money was power, and though she knew Bail to be kind-hearted and generous - which was likely what Obi-Wan saw in him as well - he was certainly privileged in ways that Anakin's rank as a slave, first, and then a Jedi would never allow him to be. She watched him prowl a little around the balcony. "Is this about Bail?" she ventured, figuring that he might need to vent.

Anakin's expression darkened. "Did you see him?" he demanded. "Acting like Obi-Wan..." He vacillated sharply and turned his face away. "Never mind."

"What?" Her voice was still affectionate, soothing, even, but siphoning information out of him was beginning to try her patience.

Anakin sighed again. "He acts like ... like Obi-Wan belongs to him or something. Like he owns him. I don't know how you couldn't see it."

"Owns him?" She queried, but suddenly understood better what Anakin must see in Obi-Wan's interactions with the other senator: With his benevolence, however unwittingly - although Padme wondered after Bail's intentions sometimes when it came to Obi-Wan - Bail could take away what Anakin loved; as a Jedi, bound by a Code that was as bad as any other form of slavery in some ways, he was powerless to stop it. 

She could not express these thoughts in so many words, however. "Obi-Wan loves you," she murmured, taking tentative steps towards him. When she reached his side, she looped a slender, bare arm through his in her own small show of possession. "It is all right for him to have more than one friend. He and Bail have a lot in common. Bail nurtures his intellect."

Anakin snorted outright; a step up, Padme decided, from outright moping. "That's not all he nurtures," he growled, and she tugged at him until his arms enclosed her loosely. "Padme," he said, blinking slowly, as if coming out of a daze; she stood on her tiptoes, tilting her face upwards towards his. Their lips met in brief, yet charged kiss. When it broke, he was smiling. 

Padme smiled, too. Anakin's love came with Anakin's possessiveness and while she had nominally gotten used to the ebbs and flows of what that meant, it didn't mean she thought it was a particularly attractive part of his personality. On the other hand, she decided, as Anakin tugged her closer, the small of her back nearly enveloped now by one of his large hands, it certainly had its moments. 

*

Bail sighed as his brain processed the small sheaf of papers collected in a crisp, red folder that had magically appeared on his work desk shortly after his arrival that day. Overall, they weren't anything particularly out of the ordinary - as the head of the Security Force for the Supreme Chancellor, he was often privy to formal requests for more of this, less of that, and handled them accordingly. Still, concentration did not come easily to him that morning. Part of the reason, he presumed, was that any time he attempted to skim through a random page or paragraph, Anakin's voice cut into his thoughts: 'If my job consisted of nothing but meetings about which piece of paper to discuss at another meeting, I'd be used to watching the time pretty closely, too.' Even so, Anakin Skywalker was often crass; this was hardly the worst thing he had uttered in Bail's presence, or even the worst thing he'd said about him.

Bail groaned and rubbed at his temples. The truth, he suspected, lay somewhere between Anakin's disrespect and the awkward way in which things had been left the previous evening with Obi-Wan. At some point, they had been alone again for a period of time, though it did not come with the easy joviality that usually occurred between them. When he patted the seat next to him on the couch that time, Obi-Wan had shaken his head. "I prefer to stand," he'd said simply.

Nonetheless, Bail had continued trying to make amends. "Obi-Wan, please, let me apologize for my words earlier. They were out of line. Your relationship with Anakin is none of my business, and I am sorry."

Obi-Wan had nodded then, though conversation had still remained scarce and of surface-level matters. It wasn't forgiveness that was difficult to come by with him, but rather, convincing Obi-Wan that his rare expression of feelings about this, that, or the other were safe, that they would not be used against him. Bail smiled ruefully now. Obi-Wan Kenobi was the consummate Jedi: Clinically compassionate, but hyperaware of the danger of forming attachments. He kept himself at a careful emotional arms-length, something Bail greatly admired about him. He, too, preferred to carry on any personal affairs covertly, not because he considered himself to be particularly immoral, but simply because he liked to keep his private affairs just so. 

And yet, Obi-Wan did not so much as hide his emotions as convince himself with overwhelming amounts of guilt not to have them at all. He had been quiet and prickly even during a mission alongside Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn some years back, a shy, somewhat oversized Padawan with a nonetheless keen intellect. Bail had liked him immediately. Later, after Qui-Gon's untimely death and Anakin's untimely apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had slipped deeper into his current persona of detachment. He was still wonderful, of course - Bail had received him on a solo visit as a Jedi consort a few years after their initial meeting, and requested him specifically after that - and not so much frigid as paranoid, but subdued. 

And then there was Anakin. It hadn't become a pattern until the boy was around fifteen or so and, as Bail figured, raging against his Master's shaky authority while simultaneously pining for him, but once it was there, it stuck around like a stubborn odor. That is, Anakin's adolescent angst suddenly seemed to consume his Master; even a conversation about trade routes could turn on a whim to, "He almost seems to be challenging me to catch him sneaking out, Bail. I'm at my wits' end." He'd hoped that Anakin's Knighting and increased responsibilities during the Clone Wars - those related to training a Padawan of his own, even - would have given Obi-Wan more peace of mind, but it had only seemed to bring a new spate of issues ("I worry he and Senator Amidala are going to do something monumentally stupid like get pregnant or something"). In short, calling Anakin a brat the other night had been justified, in Bail's opinion, but he realized now the danger of calling Obi-Wan on his own co-dependence with his former apprentice, however unhealthy it seemed to be for the both of them. 

"And how karking annoying it is to hear about all the time," he muttered out loud. He was alone when he said it, he thought, until the paneling near his open office door seemed to become sentient. "Sir?" it queried, and Bail about jumped out of his skin. "I'm sorry," he said a moment later. "I uh, did not realize I had company."

The Red Guard, notable for its (his? Bail wondered absently) full-face mask and head-to-toe uniform, gave a slight nod. "Yes, Sir," it (he, Bail was almost certain now) intoned. "The Chancellor has requested your presence at this time, as noted in his written summons."

Bail glanced at the papers in front of him, and then briefly off to the side of his desk where a small, cresent moon-shaped chrono - a gift from Breha for their anniversary a couple of years back - sat. "So it is," he said, and stood to follow the guard into the hallway.

The walk to the Chancellor's office was not overly long, but it was long enough to allow Bail enough time to push all thoughts of Anakin Skywalker out of his mind. Meetings with Palpatine, he had learned, required his full attention; the old man could be conniving and while Bail was a member of the Loyalist Committee and made a point of conspicuously backing Palpatine, he still always found himself having to be on his guard.

The massive door swung open and the red robed guard gestured him to enter. Palpatine himself was seated behind his expansive desk; Bail couldn't help but think that the man's chair looked disturbingly like a throne. It was a thought he had often but, like thoughts of Skywalker, he pushed it aside and settled himself into the vacant seat in front of the desk.

"You requested to see me, Chancellor?" he queried. There had been little on the summons to indicate why he was being called for, though his position did often require last-minute and covert meetings.

Palpatine gave a brief nod. "There is the matter of security considerations for the Republic Day festivities," he said without preamble. 

Bail suppressed a frown. Even in times of war, with the budget spread thin and security personnel spread thinner, the Senate still expected to be able to perform the same mindless celebrations with the same level of pomp and circumstance as they were accustomed. Bail had gone around on the matter with his colleagues before; in the end, he'd been shouted down. "Perhaps toning down the festival would be a first step," he suggested still, already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, Palpatine parried with, "In such trying times, don't you feel the people of the Republic deserve a celebration?" At Bail's mild shrug, he continued. "I would like your recommendations."

Bail considered the request, knowing Palpatine wanted an immediate response. "A security perimeter of Senate guards and shock troopers, if the Jedi can spare them," he replied. "We could bring in private security, but that would be at considerable cost. I'm assuming we want to keep things under the auspices of the Senate."

The Chancellor gave him a slight smile, as if he could not have come up with such a plan on his own. "But what of weak points?" he asked. "Recall the celebration on Naboo - bounty hunters were easily able to infiltrate there." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "What if we were to bring in a consultant?"

Bail repressed the urge to bristle at the suggestion. What was he, but that very consultant, after all? But he could not argue with the Chancellor openly, so he said instead, "A private firm, then?"

"I was thinking someone with more experience with tactical planning, who would be able to provide protection himself if the need arose," Palpatine clarified, and Bail began to understand.

"A Jedi, then?" he asked, already summoning the words to ask for it to be Obi-Wan.

Palpatine's smile widened slightly. "Anakin Skywalker would be my recommendation." Bail's stomach dropped, but he fought for an expression of calm detachment. "He has a keen mind, and would be able to pinpoint possible breach points. He would also be in a position to command the shock troopers."

'Keen mind' was definitely not a descriptor Bail would have chosen, but then he remembered Obi-Wan's griping about how often Anakin spent time with the Chancellor. Of course the man would have his preferences, as Bail had his own. "I see," he replied, and decided to test the waters. "What about Master Kenobi? He has had more experience, and..."

"Master Kenobi is certainly capable, but you could not do better than young Skywalker," Palpatine countered. "I believe he is currently at the clone barracks, if you would like to go meet with him." It was not a suggestion. 

"Of course," Bail replied, standing. "I will keep you updated as to our progress."

"I know you will," Palpatine said to Bail's retreating back.

*

He requested the Clone who led him to the training room in the barracks not to announce him. He wanted to see just what it was he would be getting himself into. He could not fight the Chancellor's will, not if he wanted to keep his career intact, but every fiber of his being was fighting against the order he'd been given. 

He stood in the doorway and watched as Anakin walked up and down the row of stock-still Clone Troopers, all standing at rigid attention in their armor. He stopped in front of each of them in turn; Bail could see his mouth moving, but could not hear the words. Finally, Anakin stepped back to review the whole line. "At ease!" he barked, and the men dropped their stances, still all looking at him (Bail assumed) with rapt attention. "You are all being inducted into the 501st Legion," Anakin announced. "I wanted to personally welcome you, and I want to see what you can do." He waved a hand and the room darkened slightly, repurposed battle 'droids appearing from the shadows. "I've developed this simulation to mirror what you're going to find in the field. I want to see how you work together, and with me, to reach our objective." He pointed to a balcony overlooking the vast room, where a small white flag hung suspended. 

Bail had never been on the front line of any battle, but he supposed standing in the small observation area of this training exercise was as close as he could get without taking up arms himself. As he watched, he saw the men's utter trust in Anakin's commands, saw the ease with which Anakin changed his tactics depending on what the simulation threw at them. Lightsaber singing, he was like a force of nature. When one of the troopers was grazed by a stray shot (stun, Bail assumed - hoped), Anakin was there to guide him to safety. When the 'droid battalion formed rank, Anakin ordered three of the troopers to jet-pack around them, leaping himself with the grace of a puuri-cat to thin the ranks. Bail found himself enthralled, in spite of himself. 

He had never seen this Anakin Skywalker before, and realized that, perhaps, all of the praise that he had heard was not entirely unwarranted, at least as it extended to Anakin's military prowess. 

Eventually the Clones met their objective, hoisting the flag aloft. "Great job, men," Anakin called out as the lights went back to normal. "Welcome to the 501st!"

"Thank you, Sir!" they bellowed in unison and, with a wave of Anakin's hand indicating they were dismissed, they dissembled and Anakin turned and looked directly at Bail.

"Enjoy the show?" he asked, sauntering towards Bail with the same cocky arrogance that so sorely rankled.

Bail clapped his hands together once. "Impressive," he replied. "Most impressive." 

Anakin grabbed a bottle of water from the ledge near Bail's head and took a few deep swallows. "I assume you're not here for a social visit," he said after a moment.

Bail shook his head. "It's a Senate matter," he confirmed. "Let's go back to my office and I'll fill you in."

Anakin raised an eyebrow, but picked up his cloak from where it had been discarded on the floor - yet another thing Obi-Wan frequently bemoaned. "Lead the way."

*

Several days later, Bail found himself sequestered in his apartment at 500 Republica, reviewing yet another bill to come before his committee. The meeting with Anakin earlier in the week had been brief, with Bail's impression of the young man remaining fairly unchanged, given Anakin's brusque manner throughout the entirety of the short encounter.

He was still doubtful about Palpatine's plan. He still didn't entirely trust that Anakin Skywalker was the man for the job, nor did he think Anakin could keep his personal feelings in check if he needed to - after all, wasn't that the crux of Obi-Wan's complaints?

He was halfway through the most current stack of flimsis when the alarm began. High-pitched and insistent, it cut through the quiet like blaster fire. Feeling somewhat annoyed at the interruption, Bail gathered up a few personal items and went out into the corridor, watching as others on his floor peeked out their doors. 

"The elevator's not working!" Senator Orn Free Ta moaned, pressing his considerable bulk against the doors. 

Bail repressed the urge to roll his eyes, joining his fellow senator in the elevator lobby. "When the alarms go off, they disable the elevator in case it's a fire or something," he explained, none too patiently. "We'll have to take the stairs."

At the suggestion of inconvenience - not to mention, physical exertion, most likely - Free Ta moaned even more, but allowed Bail to usher him to the emergency stairwell, accompanied by a dozen others. The door swung shut behind them, and Bail felt a peculiar sense of foreboding. As they reached the bottom floor, Bail saw smoke billowing from under the door - the door they needed to go out of in order to get to the exit. "We're trapped!" Free Ta wailed. 

"No, you're not!" a voice called from above them. Bail looked up in surprise to see Anakin Skywalker leaning over the railing a story above them. "Come on!" He had his lightsaber out, but unlit, one gloved hand reaching out, beckoning. "Senators, please, I can help you."

There was some murmuring amongst them, but Bail knew what the consensus would be. Sure enough they began the climb back up the stairs. Reaching the landing of the second level, Anakin beckoned them through the door into the elevator lobby. "Come on, there's a fire in the lower docking bay, so you'll have to get out from the window."

"The window, are you crazy?" Ask Aak snapped. Anakin turned, and Bail expected him to snap something nasty, especially since Bail was fairly sure Anakin was not fond of the representative from Malastare.

Instead, Anakin simply replied, "Don't worry, I've already set up some supports for you to climb down, and I'll be here to help if you need it. Your safety is my utmost concern, Senator." He ushered them all to the window. "Just climb down one at a time. Don't worry, it's not far at all." He cast his gaze to the small crowd surrounding him, meeting each of their eyes in turn. When he got to Bail, he even nodded a little, and Bail was struck by how quickly he was able to calm the rabble; the protestations had ceased, and the same Senators who pushed each other to get served first in the Senate building commissary obediently lined up. 

"I know this is probably interrupting something important for each of you," Anakin continued, holding out his hand for the first in line. He carefully lowered Riyo Chuchi out the window and onto the support structure, watching to make sure she was safely on her way before turning back, "So I'm going to make sure the building is secure and you can get back to your work as soon as possible. When you get down to the ground, wait here for me and I'll let you back in once I know it's safe." 

The next was Orn Free Ta, looking nervous. "Don't worry, Senator," Anakin said, "I've got you." And using the Force, he lowered the Twi'lek down to the ground. When it was Bail's turn, Anakin's gloved hand was warm and sturdy, no less than it had been for anyone else's. They did not speak, nor did Bail see Anakin much that day after mysteriously stepping in and organizing the chaos, ensuring that everybody would get out safely and unharmed, but the memory of the young man's strong grip stayed on his mind.

*

When next he laid eyes on Anakin, it was not accidental, but rather involved a routine check-in regarding newly-implemented security measures. Bail half-expected the cocksure attitude to which he had become accustomed, but Anakin was the consummate professional. He took his work seriously, Bail realized, and he knew what he was doing. For all of the doubts he had about this war, he was increasingly confident that Anakin was being utilized exactly where he was needed.

"Is that everything?" Bail asked after several minutes of back-and-forths involving his queries about this or that schematic or detail and Anakin responding with even, precise answers. The young man stood in the center of his office, legs apart, arms lightly clasped behind his back. He shrugged, and Bail nodded and closed a folder on his desk, then sat back a little and stretched. "All right, then. Great job." There was a beat, and then: "Also, good work with the fire in 500 Republica the other day. And, you know, thanks."

Anakin shrugged again. "Don't mention it." He was itching to leave, Bail could tell, and he didn't know why, but he was compelled to keep the young general there. Opening a small cabinet near his feet, he drew out a decanter of expensive-looking brandy. Noticing Anakin's bemused eyebrow, he smiled. "Would you care to join me for a drink?" 

"Sure." Anakin watched him pour a generous amount of the dark drink into two snifters, and then picked one up. He swished a moderately-sized mouthful around, swallowed, and then blinked a couple of times.

Now it was Bail's turn to look bemused. "Not your usual drink?" he asked. Immediately, he wondered whether this would be construed as him making fun of the young man, but Anakin's mouth fortunately quirked upwards.

"We can't all be bred on the finest Alderaanian booze, Senator."

Bail chuckled, genuinely amused. "No, I suppose not." He stared at the inside of his glass, swirling it around a little. "So why were you at 500 Republica in the first place, just out of curiosity?" 

Anakin swung a chair on the other side of the desk out and straddled it. "Visiting Senator Amidala," he offered, and Bail nodded. He wasn't sure whether to be surprised that Anakin had copped to it, but he supposed it was an innocuous enough answer.

He'd gotten distinct impressions about Anakin and Padme's relationship, not only from how poorly they hid whatever was going on between them when they were together in public, but also from how concerned Padme always seemed with the news reports about Anakin; she played it off as being worried about the war effort as a whole, but there was something intricately personal there. Bail didn't want to ruin the precarious peace between them by pointing it out, however, so instead, he said, "She one of the Jedi's strongest advocates in the Senate." There, unobtrusive, yet allowing Anakin to make the next move. Bail wondered why he suddenly was so interested in having a true conversation with the young man - to figure him out, or perhaps to mine his words for confirmation that he was whatever Padme or Obi-Wan or even Chancellor Palpatine seemed to see in him. Then, he scoffed at himself: They were colleagues, now, with long-held mutual acquaintances. This was probably bound to happen sooner or later. 

He upended the container of brandy, lightly sloshing additional drink into both his and Anakin's glasses. Anakin nodded in thanks, and then took another long sip. "She does so much for the Republic," he replied eventually. He looked thoughtful now. "I'm glad for the times I get to see her. It's hardly often enough." His gaze met Bail's; the intense sadness that had crept into Anakin's eyes surprised him; and then, just as fleetingly, the young man seemed to visibly shake himself free of emotion, a hard-won habit, most likely, and gulped down another mouthful of brandy to buy himself some time. "I'm just glad she has friends in the Senate, and that we get to see each other when we do, I guess," he finally added.

Bail nodded in surprising understanding. "It is not easy to have long-distance relationships," he agreed. "My wife Breha lives full-time on Alderaan," he offered a moment later. "We speak often, and I visit when I can, but it feels like we lead completely separate lives sometimes." Anakin seemed to be listening intently to him. Suddenly compelled to share, he added, "We both do what we can to get by. What might be scrutinized by some as extramarital relations, we feel work well within the boundaries of our partnership."

Anakin drained his glass and placed it on the desktop with a soft 'clink.' "It's nobody's business but yours, anyways," he said, and there it was again, that strange intensity that Bail found both intimidating and intoxicating. "Sometimes, we all just need a little affection once in a while, wherever it comes from," Anakin added. 

Intrigued, Bail pressed further: "Even Jedi?" 

Anakin steepled his fingers across his stomach. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. "Some Jedi." 

"Even you, then?"

Anakin shrugged. "Maybe." He leaned forward. "Maybe we're fooling ourselves into thinking we're above emotions, all of us: Me, Master Windu ..." He paused and raised a pointed eyebrow: "Esteemed Jedi security consorts."

Bail swallowed hard; he tipped his own snifter back, then, the rich drink providing a temporary heady immersion. Even as it wore off, his stomach churned. "But there's no harm in it, as you've said," he replied weakly. He straightened in his seat: "Occasional ... affection doesn't stop even the most esteemed consort from being a Jedi." 

Anakin frowned, and the energy of the room wavered. "Obi-Wan is a true Jedi," he replied blandly, no longer pretending that this had ever not been about his Master. His eyes fixated on the older man's face. "You wouldn't change that, you know," he added; and then, when Bail's expression implied undisguised shock at being so called out, "Better people than you have tried."

"I would never try to make him leave," Bail retorted, though it took him a moment to regain his composure. He resisted the urge to fiddle with something on his desk. "We both know exactly who we are."

"Good." Anakin stood up abruptly, all lanky grace mixed with barely contained power. Bail watched him saunter towards the doorway. "Thanks for the drink," he called, and then he was gone.

*

"Well, if you put snipers on the rooftops across the square, that should provide enough cover from that angle," Anakin was saying, pointing over the balcony railing towards the square the Republic Day festival was slated to be held. Bail hadn't thought of it until Anakin had asked if there was a good vantage point to see the square from above without taking his fighter out for a joyride - Anakin's words - and his apartment afforded an excellent view of the entire area. "Then you'll have your perimeter, with checkpoints here," he jutted his arm out again, "and here."

Bail nodded, satisfied with the plan. "Good work," he said, and paused. After their prior conversation, Bail was somewhat hesitant to dip back into the personal, but there was something still nagging at him, something that had begun the other day that he wanted to continue. He wondered if this was why people were so drawn to Anakin - this strange charisma, the ability to make people, if not like him, then at least be fascinated by him. "Have you eaten?" he asked.

Anakin gave a one-shouldered shrug but did not speak, instead walking back through the balcony doors into the main sitting area. Bail gestured towards the kitchen adjacent. "I have a cheese and fruit platter left over from my meeting with Garm Bel Iblis yesterday if you're interested." He raised an eyebrow. "I've heard from Obi-Wan that he's lost many a brick of cheese to your palate."

"Obi-Wan exaggerates," Anakin replied breezily. "It was one time, tops." 

Bail chuckled as he retrieved the platter from the cooling unit, depositing it on the low slung table. As an afterthought, he poured two glasses of Nubian blossomwine and brought them over, depositing himself into the chair across from the sofa. "It didn't have Obi-Wan's name on it," Anakin pointed out, accepting the wine glass with a nod of thanks.

Bail watched Anakin pluck a muja fruit slice off the tray, sliding it into his mouth in a way that, were he anywhere or anyone else, could have been described as nearly erotic. The senator blinked, then shook his head briefly; his mind was playing tricks on him.

They co-existed amicably for a few more minutes, and then the small chime indicating a visitor sounded. "Oh, I almost forgot." Bail stood up and crossed the room. When the door slid aside elegantly, both Anakin and the being on the other side looked surprised. 

"Anakin?"

"Master." 

Obi-Wan stepped into the truncated foyer. He looked unsure, even slightly suspicious. "Anakin and I have been tweaking increased security measures for the Republic Day event. He just stopped by out of the blue," Bail offered. 

Both sets of eyes turned to Anakin, who dumped back the rest of his wine in a couple of gulps. "He lies, Master." Then, before Bail could protest, added demurely: "We were ... negotiating a threesome." 

"Ha," Bail laughed, the tension easing slightly. Quickly, he snatched up Anakin's empty glass. "My apologies, Obi-Wan, I'll get you something to drink." He gestured at the serving tray. "Help yourself, of course. We were just talking about how well Anakin knows his way around a block of cheese."

"That he does." Obi-Wan perched on the couch next to his former apprentice. When Bail returned, the room was still awkwardly quiet. "So ..." he trailed off. Channeling Padme's premiere hostessing skills, he finally said, "How's the cheese?" 

"To be honest, I just ate." The room lapsed into silence again; then, of his own accord, Obi-Wan piped up, "I don't believe I've ever seen the two of you together aside from official functions or Senator Amidala's dinner parties." He glanced at Anakin, immersed in a new glass of wine, and Bail, who sort of shrugged. "It's a nice development, I suppose."

"That it is," Bail replied swiftly. 

Once again, Anakin's response was more ambling. "Senator Organa and I have come to recognize that we have some things in common, Master," he drawled. He plucked a cube of cheese from the tray and popped it into his mouth. "Good food, a secure Republic," he ruminated, and then, swallowing to clear his mouth and eyeing Obi-Wan with a predatory look, "you."

Bail chuckled again. Irritated, Obi-Wan frowned at him, and the senator abruptly coughed, and then busied himself with his own drink. He had never seemed to find anything Anakin intentionally did or said funny before, Obi-Wan thought suspiciously, but now, it was like they were conspirators trading government secrets; or worse, a couple of giggling Padawans. Something about their newfound alliance made him anxious, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"Is that so?" he asked, hoping his discomfort didn't show too horribly. As it was, Anakin was looking at him like he was some kind of prey animal, and Bail was pointedly looking at anything but. 

Anakin slipped an arm around his shoulders, making matters worse. Obi-Wan shrugged him off half-heartedly, looking in askance at Bail ('tell him that he's being absolutely inappropriate,' he thought sourly), but the other man was watching the display with great interest. "Anakin," he sighed.

"Master." Anakin's breath was hot on his cheek; the wine had a not-unpleasant odor, but having it accompanied by the kiss pressed to his cheek, and then the subsequent ones dotting the side of his face was unnerving. "Anakin, stop," he commanded. Once again, he frowned up at Bail. "This is incredibly poor behavior to display in Senator Organa's home." 

Anakin, too, glanced up at Bail. Something unidentifiable communicated itself through shared eye contact, then, but while Obi-Wan could not translate it, it seemed to settle something for the senator, who lowered himself to sit on the other side of Obi-Wan, effectively sandwiching him between the other two men. "Maybe I don't mind," he murmured; then, closing the space between them, he nuzzled the other side of Obi-Wan's face with his own. "All right, Ben?" he whispered. It was loud enough for Anakin to hear, and had Bail been Force-sensitive, he would have felt the energies in the room shift slightly. In any case, Anakin's suddenly cloudy expression told him all he needed to know of the young man's opinion of Bail's nickname for his Master ... and then, just like that, it dissipated, and Anakin leaned in again, committed to seeing this through now.

He laid his flesh hand on Obi-Wan's upper thigh and squeezed slightly. "Master," he crooned, and Obi-Wan suddenly felt somewhat overheated as Anakin's hot, wine-laced breath ghosted over the side of his face. He made a noise possibly, because Anakin smiled against his cheek. "You look nervous."

"He does, doesn't he?" Bail agreed, and Obi-Wan decided he did not like the two of them conspiring together at all. "There's nothing to be nervous about, Obi-Wan."

'Easy for you to say,' Obi-Wan thought, but Anakin's hand tightened its grip, then shifted, and then he was suddenly being pressed back against the couch cushions as Anakin unexpectedly hoisted himself atop Obi-Wan's lap, grinning down at him, unruly hair flopping into his eyes. "Hey," he said, sliding his hands down Obi-Wan's tunic, slipping them into the soft folds of the cloth. Obi-Wan felt Bail's hand replace Anakin's on his thigh, and darted his gaze towards the senator. Bail's expression was somewhat thoughtful, but very intent on whatever it was they were doing. 

Anakin leaned into him, his mouth warm as it fastened onto Obi-Wan's. He was heavy, yet carefully arranged, his weight meant to suggest that Obi-Wan stay put more than anything. Fingers lightly cupped his chin, massaging his jaw; "Master," Anakin whispered against his clenched teeth, and Obi-Wan relaxed a little, allowing the young man this. Upon breaking the kiss, Anakin bit his lower lip hard and then pulled away, causing Obi-Wan to make a small tutting noise in the back of his throat.

"Good, Master," Anakin grinned. His hands ran up and down Obi-Wan's sides, sliding along the bare skin inside his tunic. He thumbed over a nipple and Obi-Wan jumped. "It's okay," Anakin chuckled, and kissed down his forehead, nose, and then his mouth again, "We'll take care of you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Obi-Wan admitted, but his voice was husky. Anakin shifted off of him into a standing position, and then knelt on the floor, tugging Obi-Wan's legs apart to give himself room. Obi-Wan struggled a little, but the hands wrapped around the ankles of his boots, not to mention, Anakin's considerable physical presence, prevented him from doing much. Still, he made a noise of protest when the young man's hand palmed his crotch: "N-no," he groaned. 

Anakin's hands relinquished themselves, for the moment, anyways, to Obi-Wan's thighs, rubbing lightly. "Master," he said knowingly, and watched as Bail took the initiative to move in, sliding his own hand into Obi-Wan's shirt, baring a shoulder. He leaned in, kissing the juncture of neck and shoulder, running the same hand purposefully across Obi-Wan's chest. The reaction he had had to Anakin's incidental nipple stimulation intrigued him; he ran fingertips over the left one, intentionally creating friction by repeating the action again and again, and then did the same to the right. "Ah-" Obi-Wan gasped, and Bail shifted so as to cradle him somewhat, giving his hands access to both nipples, which he teased into hardened nubs. By the time he felt Anakin's hands on his groin again, his legs were shaking, but he did not push him away.

Anakin's mouth on his cock seemed to happen in slow motion; he anticipated it, even made a faint noise from the back of his throat, and then still gasped outright as it made contact, lips curling over appreciative flesh. "Anakin," he bit out, and felt Bail's ministrations still. Realizing that he had an audience, Anakin made a point of drawing out the show, opening his mouth wide, running his tongue along the rim of his Master's cock, arching his neck elegantly to fully draw it into his mouth. Obi-Wan's noises, the small, erratic bucks of his hips, the way his own mouth hung open in arousal, told him everything he needed to know about the effectiveness of his work. 

Unable to help it, Bail stared. There were rumors of Anakin's sexual prowess, well-tread conversations about just how far he stretched the Jedi Code's mandate about attachment to incorporate all manner of carnal pleasures. And yet, seeing it for himself, and being asked to participate in it, besides, helped him to understand better why Obi-Wan thought Anakin was worth all the trouble he tended to cause. It wasn't just about sex, he decided; that much was clear watching Anakin possessively eyefuck his Master. There was something between them, something both primal and loving, and it undid Obi-Wan in a way Bail had never been able to achieve. He should be jealous outright; and yet, as he watched Anakin slide the length of his Master's dick fully into his mouth, hold it there for a long moment, and then slowly let it go, all he really wanted was to be part of it. 

He tugged Obi-Wan's face towards his, and then, more forward than he'd ever been, shoved his tongue inside the other man's mouth. Remnants of wine enticed him further; he kissed Obi-Wan furiously, hands grabbing at loose tunic for purchase. Obi-Wan was warm and pliable, and it made Bail want to take as much of him as he could for himself. He raised his hands, clutching at Obi-Wan's face, rubbing the pads of his fingers across the soft, short hairs sprinkling the lower half. Breaking the kiss left them both panting a little; compelled by Obi-Wan's open mouth and swollen lips, he stretched out two fingers and fitted them inside. "Suck," he commanded, and his other hand slipped down to the nape of the other man's neck, rubbing coercively. 

"You should have him suck you off." Anakin was watching them, eyes heavy-lidded, his real hand fondling Obi-Wan's own cock and balls, not enough to bring him off, but definitely keeping him aroused. Above, Obi-Wan's tongue slid around and between the digits in his mouth, until Bail removed them, standing and shoving down his pants and undergarments in a single, fluid motion. He met Obi-Wan's gaze questioningly, and, finding no resistance, merely Obi-Wan's wide-blown pupils, gripped himself and moved closer.

"That's it, Master," Anakin crooned, and Bail uttered a soft "oh" while Obi-Wan's tongue slid along his length. The feeling was intoxicating, as was the sight and sound of Obi-Wan, splayed and beautiful. Every so often, one of Anakin's ministrations would cause him to twitch, to moan around his mouthful; Bail's fingers tugged the short hairs in the back of his head and he would groan, scooting forward or pulling away as encouraged. It would have been wonderful to simply be brought off this way, sheathed in Obi-Wan's gorgeous fucking mouth, but he found himself wanting more. "Anakin," he found himself saying.

Anakin momentarily stopped sucking at the head of Obi-Wan's penis with an intentional slurping sound. "Yes?" he asked, glancing at the scene above him and smirking. 

Bail exhaled shakily. "We should fuck him," he muttered, before he lost his nerve completely. He looked down to gauge Obi-Wan's opinion on the matter. The other man's face was flushed, and he looked both apprehensive and aroused. "Together," Bail mouthed, and Anakin grinned. He stood swiftly, and held out a hand to Obi-Wan; Bail assisted with tugging him off the couch, and then, feeling suddenly possessive, gripped him by the shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. "Bail," Obi-Wan whispered, but Bail shushed him, and then kissed him hard. Two pairs of hands continued to divest Obi-Wan of his clothing, and Obi-Wan muttered something about "judicious Force use" as his boots slid off with unusual ease. 

"Here, Master," Anakin said, close to his ear, and he was led around to the other side of Bail's couch, and then bent over its edge. Anakin's hand between his legs, coaxing them further apart and tracing his cleft, made him jump. "S'okay, we'll take good care of you," Anakin husked, a smile apparent in his voice. At the very least, Obi-Wan thought sardonically, he was using his flesh hand. 

"Got anything to help open him up?" 

Bail made abrupt eye contact with Obi-Wan, who looked vaguely annoyed and squirmed. His mouth felt dry. "In the bedroom," he answered, and managed to pull himself away, pivoting on his heel and collecting a small bottle of lubricant from the table in the corner. When he returned, Anakin seemed to have disappeared, ... and then Bail realized that he was crouched behind Obi-Wan, who was now quivering slightly, head lolling forward. Eventually, Anakin's head resurfaced; he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, giving Bail a more definite inkling of what it had caused Obi-Wan's reaction. His cock twitched. He held the bottle out, and Anakin's hand twitched; a moment later, it sailed across the room and smacked against his palm. 

Obi-Wan groaned. "Anakin."

"Hush, Master." Opening the tube, Anakin spread a generous amount of its contents across his fingers, which then disappeared. There was a beat, and then Obi-Wan's eyelashes fluttered, his mouth forming an 'o.' He mewled a little. Anakin smirked. "It's not judicious Force use if you need it." 

"Need it for what?" Obi-Wan complained, but Anakin ignored him in favor of beckoning Bail over with an incline of his head. Curious, Bail joined them, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of Obi-Wan, thrown across the back of his couch, and precisely what Anakin had done to cause him to look so debauched. He glanced at Anakin. "I'll go first," the young man said, and Bail just nodded, transfixed.

He watched Anakin lube his fingers again and scissored them around inside Obi-Wan's entrance, and then slicked up his own cock, as well. "Ready, Master," he announced, and his free hand held Obi-Wan's hip while the other guided him inside. Obi-Wan choked and tensed, and Anakin slid out a little, coaxing, murmuring until the other man relaxed. He began again, ever so careful, his own face enthralled, and Bail watched Obi-Wan slowly fall apart. 

Anakin gasped, driving himself deep, feeling Obi-Wan's Force signature entwine around his. He looked at Bail; the senator was certainly getting something out of this, as well, but he would never have from Obi-Wan what Anakin was receiving now, what he stockpiled greedily, just in case he ever found himself devoid of and wanting for his Master's essence. The thought made him smug; graciously, he jerked his chin. "Join me. He can take us both, now." 

"An-" Obi-Wan ground out, and swore, and whimpered. He was a sight to behold, writhing and contained, but only just. Bail reached out, ran a hand over Obi-Wan's ass, and was gratified to hear the little exhalation that followed. More lubricant would be needed, he thought, and wiggled his first digit, liberally coated, into Obi-Wan's ass hole, alongside Anakin's cock. It was tight, so tight, and then he managed to slide a second finger in, as well, and a third. Obi-Wan was keening, now, hands fisting the overstuffed couch cushion, legs shaking. 'Gorgeous,' Bail thought. He looked at Anakin. "Okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Anakin said simply. It was all Bail needed. Gingerly, he removed his fingers; then, he positioned the head of his cock next to Anakin's, and his other hand found Obi-Wan's, and then he was pushing, and kriff, he thought dizzily, it was tight, impossibly tight, and yet, it was happening anyway, incrementally, but so tight and so fucking good. 

"Obi-Wan," he choked out, squeezing the other man's fingers. "All right?" A brief, affirmative noise rose from Obi-Wan's throat; it stirred something primal in Bail, and he snapped his hips, sliding in and then out a little, doing it again, and then letting Anakin take the lead, driving himself home over and over with precision. The hardened flesh rubbed against his own, and Bail felt the rumblings of release begin to pool in his lower belly. 

It seemed as though Anakin had gotten there first, however. His movements became jerkier, slower, until he eased himself out of Obi-Wan completely and, pumping his cock with his own fist once, twice, then running his thumb over the slit a few times, he finished himself off, striping Obi-Wan's lower back with his ejaculate. Bail thought, fleetingly, of the difficulties of getting errant come stains out of the upholstery of his much-abused furniture, but it vanished quickly as Obi-Wan wiggled, calling his attention to something else entirely. "Bail," he moaned, and suddenly nothing else was as important as this, whatever this was, whoever had sanctioned it. 

He tugged the other man into a standing position, wiping absently at the mess left behind by Anakin, holding the Jedi Master against his chest. He tilted Obi-Wan's chin, urging him to look at him. "Please, Bail," he said, and Bail kissed him, and then pressed his lips along Obi-Wan's neck, the scruff along his jawline. Still inside of him, he shifted incrementally to accommodate for Anakin's absence, and began to move again. It was slower this time, more what he was used to when it was just the two of them. 

Well, for the moment, anyways. He watched Anakin watching them, and then stared enviously at the possessive ease with which Anakin reached for the other man. He kissed him, a languid, sticky exchange, and then flicked playfully at Obi-Wan's nipples again, making him squirm. In response, Bail grunted, slow-fucking him some more, grasping skin slippery with perspiration, and the lower stirrings of his groin were there again. "Touch yourself, Obi-Wan," he ordered, because he knew he wouldn't last much longer. 

Obi-Wan nodded, reached out a hand, and then Anakin was there, all brazen smiles and "let me, Master"-s, and Bail couldn't be certain whether he was using his hand or mouth or both, but whatever he was doing, it was working, and suddenly, Obi-wan let out a strangled cry, his head falling back against Bail's shoulder, and his skin tasted salty. "Bail," he murmured, and Bail felt swollen and feverish and then he was tipping over the edge himself. "Ben," he may have whispered, or perhaps the name had only reverberated through his head. Still heady from the aftermath of his own orgasm, he glanced down at Anakin, but the young man's face, flushed and heavy-lidded and elated and accusatory all at once, gave nothing away. 

*

They took Obi-Wan to the fresher after that, removing their remaining errant articles of clothing along the way. The senator's personal shower easily accommodated the three of them, and Obi-Wan just nodded when Bail asked after the water temperature. 

They took turns helping Obi-Wan, rinsing the excesses of the afternoon's events from his body, lightly scrubbing each limb with a softly masculine-scented gel that foamed up nicely on his skin. Anakin seemed to take great pleasure in helping Obi-Wan wash his hair, though when the young man bent to plant a kiss on his mouth, his hand snaking down to the Jedi Master's crotch, Obi-Wan gently rebuffed him. "I'm quite good, thank you," he said, and Anakin and Bail both laughed. 

Anakin also enjoyed having his hair played with, and Bail suspected that this had become something of a tradition for the two Jedi, a small, intimate habit for the two of them to share. He watched for a while, cataloguing the familiarity of Obi-Wan's body alongside the nuances of Anakin's. The young man was all lean musculature and sun-bronzed skin; even his war wounds - the scar decorating his left eye, his artificial arm - enhanced rather than detracted from his beauty. His cock, too, was nestled in a bed of short, curly hairs, though as Obi-Wan's hand caressed the small of his back, it no longer appeared to be nestled so much as, well. Ah, the vigors of youth, he thought sardonically, but even so, watching the two of them was causing a stirring for Bail, as well.

Obi-Wan seemed to notice their dual arousal then, and offered a mild smile. "Anakin really is quite good," he said casually, wrapping an arm around Anakin's slim waist and sliding a finger up the length of the young man's cock with his other hand. Anakin let out a slight gasp, tilting his head to rest against Obi-Wan's shoulder. 

"So I've witnessed," Bail replied with the same casual cadence, daring now to run a hand over Anakin's bicep, feeling the muscles and ever-so-faintly raised scars. Anakin seemed to soak up the attention, raising his eyes to meet Bail's, almost challenging, but with an undercurrent of vulnerability, a desire to be ... well, desired.

Obi-Wan backed away slightly, pushing Anakin forward and then clamping his hands on his shoulders. "I think, as our generous host, it's only right for you to experience it yourself," he said, and firmed the pressure of his hands to make Anakin lower himself to his knees in front of Bail.

Anakin looked up at him for a brief moment, then down again at Bail's hardening cock. Gripping the base in his flesh hand, Anakin stroked up and down the length, thumbing the top gently. "Go on, Anakin," Obi-Wan prodded. "Be a good guest."

Anakin's tongue slid over the tip, eliciting a gasp. Twirling his tongue over the slit, Anakin lowered his head and slid Bail's length into his mouth in earnest. Bail made a point of looking down and Anakin, as if aware of the attention, looked upwards, eyes smoldering. Bail fisted a hand in Anakin's hair and pushed his hips forward greedily, moaning as Anakin's teeth ever-so-gently brushed over the sensitive skin. 

Wanting more, Bail tugged Anakin's head forward. The suction, friction, and stimulation from Anakin's tongue were beginning to make his legs tremble, and he leaned back against the shower wall a little. Anakin's eyes were watering, but he kept up his ministrations, reaching out to gently squeeze Bail's balls, sliding his fingers across the flesh in small, intricate patterns. That familiar warmth moved down into Bail's stomach and groin again and, meeting Obi-Wan's gaze, now, he slid his cock out of Anakin's mouth, pumped himself twice, and then spilled his seed over Anakin's lips and chin.

Instead of acting scandalized, Anakin merely smirked, standing, his own cock hard and weeping pre-come. He made his way underneath one of the stall's three shower heads, allowing the spray to clean his face. His member bobbed; he reached down to finish himself off, but hands that were not his, yet equally familiar got there first. "Master," he smiled, and thrust his hips, moaning openly. He came quickly, his spunk flowing quickly towards the drain, and nuzzled into Obi-Wan's neck. "Thank you," he breathed, and Obi-Wan patted his cheek in a rare show of fondness. Bail suspected that this was more commonplace than anyone knew, but he was good at keeping secrets. 

*

Republic Day was exactly the kind of pompous, self-congratulatory event Bail had expected it to be. Senators made speeches praising the Republic, and themselves, all in the name of the Republic-wide solidarity, even though only a small sliver of the Republic resided on Coruscant where nearly all of the action was centered in the first place. Even so, there was a merry revelry in the air that Bail could hardly ignore. 

He hadn't seen Anakin or Obi-Wan since the encounter at his apartment, but he knew Anakin at the very least was in the crowd somewhere, coordinating the security effort. While previously he would have expected Anakin to be among those using Republic Day as an excuse to go bar hopping, he now couldn't think of anyone, besides Obi-Wan, that he entrusted more with the safety of the Republic's citizens. 

As if on cue, and whisper-quiet, besides - if Bail hadn't grown accustomed to Obi-Wan's silent footfalls over the years, he would have been badly shaken; as it was, he merely jumped a little - Anakin appeared at his side. "I've got patrols circling, and the checkpoints are doing a good job catching any weapons," he said, giving Bail a quick once-over. Almost certainly, he was critically eyeing the other man's rich aquamarine robes; it certainly went a ways towards putting his own hypocritical disgust over the bloated nature of the day into perspective, though he wasn't going to admit that to Anakin. 

"We're going to tighten the net once the Chancellor gets up to speak - we want to make the target area as small as possible," Anakin continued. Once again, Bail was struck by how quickly Anakin could switch gears; drunken lout one day, wanton sex god the next, and now consummate professional, the ultimate Jedi General. The contradictions were, still, fascinating. 

"Thank you," Bail said, meaning it. 

Anakin nodded, his gaze steady, and just as inscrutable and perplexing as everything else about him. "Don't mention it," he intoned, and when Bail turned around again, he was gone.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Do What You Want, 'Til You Find What You're Looking For](https://archiveofourown.org/works/859608) by [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess)




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